


the streets I used to know

by Antarctica_or_bust



Category: Captain America (Movies), Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Awkward Conversations, Being a superhero has a major learning curve, Bromance, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky has skills, But Peter is giving it his all, Chance Meetings, Even when being Spider-Man isn't all that glamorous, Fluff, Foreign Language, Friendship, Gen, Humor, More angst and feels, New York City, Peter Parker is a Good Bro, Peter being a teenager, Peter is really trying to help out, Plot What Plot - the unsexy kind, Poignant, Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Pre-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Pre-Series, Pre-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Protective Bucky Barnes, Protective Peter Parker, Revelations, Sandwiches, Seriously - way too much about sandwiches, Spider-Man Interacting with New Yorkers, Studying, minor Civil War spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2018-12-12 02:16:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 10,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11727420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Antarctica_or_bust/pseuds/Antarctica_or_bust
Summary: Bucky ends up in NYC chasing memories and forms an unlikely friendship while he's there.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I know I have an ongoing series and a Civil War fic I started about a year ago - not to mention all my other projects. But this story demanded that I write it now. It's the gen-est thing ever and yet I'm weirdly fond of it. 
> 
> Point of question, does anyone else keep wanting to write Spiderman instead of Spider-Man? I know the latter is official but it still looks weird to me. Also, Spider-Man fics are such a weird grey area of sort of crossovers.

Peter has been Spider-Man for exactly seven days and thirteen hours when he first meets James. The teen only notices the man because he looks kind of shady; no one stands still in New York City in the winter unless something weird is going on. Especially not in what looks like one flimsy hoodie and a pair of driving gloves.  
  
However, Peter has been called a lot of awful names in the last week for jumping to conclusions – how was he supposed to know that that one mugging was actually Shakespeare in the Park? - and he's trying not to make assumptions anymore. So he approaches cautiously.  
  
The stranger is standing on the sidewalk, completely motionless. He doesn't seem to notice as people walk around him and he barely even twitches when one woman stops to cuss at him for getting in her way. He's not on the phone or drinking coffee while looking for a taxi – those would both be normal. Instead, the man is empty-handed, staring at the buildings like he's never seen their like before.  
  
“Hey, are you all right?” Peter asks, keeping a careful distance in case this guy is some kind of druggie out for a bad trip. One week as a New York vigilante has made the teen more familiar with quiet people going psycho than he'd ever planned to be.  
  
However, this man's eyes are clear if tired when he turns to look at Peter and he shows no sign of flipping out. So if Spider-Man can't catch a criminal, maybe he can have a conversation and help another way.  
  
“Do you need directions or something?”  
  
“That's an... interesting... outfit,” the stranger says after a long moment, choosing each word carefully. “Is it... Halloween now? Who are you supposed to be??”  
  
“What? No. It's December, dude. You're off by a couple months,” Peter answers, a bit more worried now. But the man just shrugs in answer. He looks both faintly amused and completely done with everything, like he wouldn't be surprised to go to sleep in December and wake up in October afterward.  
  
“You're not some kind of addict, are you?” the teen asks. “I mean, no judgment if you are... actually, that's a lie, I probably would be judging and you better not be dealing in this here neighborhood. But there are places to get help. Or hey, are you hungry? I've got-”  
  
Peter shoves one hand in the pocket of his costume and does a bit of rummaging.  
  
“About six bucks. You could buy a sandwich if you want. I know a place with the best sandwiches in Queens and you shouldn't make big life choices when you're starving; in my experience that ends badly for everyone involved. At least, that's my excuse for a couple things I've done.”  
  
He holds out the bill but the stranger doesn't take it. The man just stares at Peter for a moment before asking, “Why... do you... even care?”  
  
This guy sounds completely baffled and his expression matches, what the teen can see of it beneath his baseball cap. Honestly, it's like no one has ever offered the man anything without a bunch of strings before. Which is really kind of sad.  
  
“You seem to need help so I'm helping,” Peter tells him with shrug. “Friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, it's kind of what I do. Looking out for the little guy. At least I'm trying to.”  
  
“How do you know I'm not a... criminal?” the man replies, still with those odd pauses like he's searching for the words. “You shouldn't go round handing... cash to strangers. What if you get... mugged?”  
  
“I told you, I'm Spider-Man. I'd like to see them try,” he answers, fighting back a smirk. “And you don't seem like a criminal. I'm pretty sure a coke-head would have taken my six bucks.”  
  
The stranger barks a laugh and then looks startled at the sound.  
  
“I guess you're right,” he murmurs. “Though I could just have high standards. Maybe I don't work that cheap.”  
  
“ _Are_ you a criminal then?”  
  
“Depends on who you ask,” the man tells him quietly. “I am... was... a soldier. I've... killed a lot of men.”  
  
“My grandfather fought in World War II. I don't think that makes you bad.” Peter's not sure why he says it. This guy is just a stranger, lost though he may seem. “Look, if you don't want a sandwich, can I do something else? Cuz otherwise I should probably go see if someone actually needs Spider-Man right now. I just started this gig, you know, and I need to get my name out on the streets.”  
  
“I was on my way to... Brooklyn but I got turned around,” the man replies, squinting up at the skyline. “This city doesn't feel... it doesn't look the same.”  
  
“Well, that one's pretty easy,” Peter tells him, relieved to have an answer. “You can't get there directly, but if you take the N train to the city you can transfer to the J train after that. There's a subway stop a few blocks over th-”  
  
“No,” the guy says flatly. “Not the subway. Nothing... underground.”  
  
“ _Okkaay,_ then. How about a taxi?” the teen offers. “You won't see many in this neighborhood but you can call one easily.”  
  
“I don't have a phone,” is the reply.  
  
_The fuck?_   Peter thinks, gaping at the stranger. _Who doesn't have a phone these days?_  
  
“Look, man, I'm trying. But you've gotta help me out here,” he says, throwing his hands up in the air. “I don't have a bicycle to loan you and you're off the easy bus routes, especially on Sunday. At this point you'd probably get there faster if you walked.”  
  
“Walking would be... better,” the man tells him.  
  
“This is New York City in the winter,” Peter says in disbelief. “No one freaking walks. I mean, the directions aren't that difficult. You just keep heading that way, walk along the water until you hit the bridge. But you'd probably freeze to death long before you get there. If you don't have a phone, can _I_ call _you_ a taxi? I'd feel better if I did.”  
  
“That won't be necessary. Much obliged, kid.”  
  
The man tips his baseball cap to Peter like some old-fashioned gentleman. Then he strolls off toward Brooklyn with his hands shoved in his pockets and all the teen can wonder is, _What just happened here?_  
  
“I'm not a kid, I'm Spider-Man,” he calls out but the stranger doesn't even turn around. The teen watches him until he disappears into the distance, tempted to follow to make sure that he's all right. But Peter is getting kind of chilly and he doesn't have the time to walk to Brooklyn before Aunt May starts to wonder where he is. Besides, Spider-Man isn't here to babysit grown men, even ones that seem real weird.  
  
So the teen heads back toward his house, hoping that he'll get lucky and have the chance to stop a robbery somewhere along the way.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Two days later, Peter is testing out some new gloves when he sees the man again.

He's in Brooklyn this time, taking a short break from patrolling – or, more accurately, running along the rooftops and hoping that someone else gets mugged. The teen feels a little guilty about hoping but no one ever said that being a superhero could be so dang boring all the time. He'd been expecting aliens and super-villains and what he got was shoplifters ripping off a bunch of whiskey or a two-dollar pack of gum.

So Peter is cold and frustrated and really freaking bored and when he sees a familiar stranger on the sidewalk, he decides that he has time to indulge his curiosity.

“Hey, man. How's it goi-?”

The teen doesn't have the chance to finish his sentence. Instead, he finds himself dodging a fist straight to his face.

“Hey! Whoa, easy!” Peter shouts, leaping up on the closest canopy. “I thought you were a good guy.”

He keeps on talking until the man finally seems to realize what he's doing, shaking himself like a wet dog trying to get clean. The stranger rises from his crouch and he seems to be done fighting, but the teen's instincts tell him to still tread cautiously.

“Sorry. You... startled me,” the guy says, looking up at Peter.

“Right, _soldier_. That was my bad,” he replies, smacking his hand against his face. “Next time I'll announce myself from far away, yeah?”

“That would be... appreciated.”

“Well, I'll try not to forget again,” Peter promises. “Anyway, I see you managed to reach Brooklyn without freezing. Did you find what you were looking for?”

The teen is both curious and worried. This man is hardly scrawny but Peter thinks he might be wearing the same clothes he was before and that hoodie doesn't seem like warmth enough if it starts to snow. The guy should have a scarf at least.

“I used to live there,” the stranger murmurs, pointing toward an old building on the corner. “Steve and I, we used to get in so much trouble back when we were kids.”

“You're a New Yorker? That's awesome, so am I!” Peter exclaims and then feels like a dumbass. _Of course I'm a New Yorker, idiot._ “I mean, I never would have guessed it from your accent.”

“I've been away for a long time,” the stranger tells him, sounding almost wistful. “And now everything is different. The New York I knew is gone.”

“That sucks, man. I'm sorry,” the teen replies. “But there are still some pretty nice spots in the city. Maybe you just need a local face to show you where they are. The hidden treasures, you know, not the major tourist spots.”

“I don't know. I always did like... Coney Island,” the man says with a faint smile. “But shouldn't you... be at home or something? Or maybe at school? You don't seem old enough to be out here by... yourself.”

“I told you, I'm Spider-Man,” the teen exclaims. “Superheroes don't have curfews. Superheroes fight crime at all hours; that's the point. You don't see Iron Man taking a day off.”

“Yeah, you do, kid. Bad example,” the man snorts and for one split-second, Peter can hear a hint of Brooklyn in his voice. “Even... Captain America knows how to have some fun. Honestly, kid, if you do catch a … criminal, what do you plan to do with 'em? You're kind of... scrawny for a fist fight. You'll get your teeth knocked out.”

“Hey! I'm stronger than I look and I've done all right so far,” Peter protests. “Besides, I've got something in the works that will make the whole thing moot.”

“Hmm?” the stranger grunts and the teen can't resist the urge to tell him. Ever since he got bitten, he's been dying to tell someone about his awesome plans for Spider-Man.

“Yeah, it's gonna be fantastic,” he says excitedly. “I want to make a kind of web fluid, like from a real spider. It will be sticky and shoot out of my hands to catch the bad guys. I won't even have to touch them. Just _bam_ and they'll be stuck while I leave and call the cops.”

“That sounds... somewhat useful,” the man replies after a moment and Peter has to grin.

“I know, right? I'm still working on the formula but it will be so awesome when it's finished. Criminals won't even know what hit them once I'm done.”

“Good luck with that, kid,” the guy replies. Then he tips his hat again and then turns to walk away.

“Hey, wait!” Peter shouts, running after him. “What's your name? I can't keep calling you 'that person from the sidewalk' all the time. Well, I guess I could, but that's kind of long and awkward, not to mention impolite.”

“... James. Call me James if it means that much to you.”

“Nice to meet you, James,” the teen says, giving the man a short salute in lieu of shaking hands. “You sure you don't need something? I've heard there's some decent shelters right around here if you want a place to sleep.”

“I'll be fine, kid, really. Worry about your criminals,” James tells him before adding, “And don't stay out too late.”

“Uggh, _fine, grandma,_ ” Peter groans. “Will you just get out of here?”

“All right, Spider-Man. Good evening.”

James walks about ten feet and then just disappears somehow. Peter didn't see him turn a corner but he's definitely gone now and the teen might have to ask about that trick if he sees the man again. But he still has about an hour before his aunt expects him home and he intends to make the most of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple notes concerning questions I've received:
> 
> 1\. The “...” in my dialogue are actual pauses, not stutters. I mark stutters with a - . In Bucky's case, think of … as the time it takes for his scrambled brain to remember English words again. 
> 
> 2\. Yes, Peter has heard of Bucky Barnes. However, that doesn't mean he knows what the guy looks like for a couple reasons.
> 
> A. Put-together-1940s-Bucky and scruffy-Winter-Soldier-Bucky probably don't look that similar to a total stranger, especially when the latter is always wearing hats. Sure Steve and Howard recognized him, but they knew Bucky well.
> 
> B. Bucky's not that famous. He probably got a few black-and -white photos in a sidebar and that's it. Maybe Peter saw the CA exhibit, maybe he didn't, but Bucky managed to go unnoticed in that same exhibit with nothing but a hat.
> 
> C. Once Peter meets Bucky that first time, he's going to look familiar because he's the guy from the sidewalk. There's no reason for the teen to think about it more than that.
> 
> Honestly, the number of people from my history books that I would actually recognize on the street consists of maybe half a dozen presidents and a couple British monarchs. If most of those presidents weren't also printed on our money or shown in movie footage, they'd have no chance at all.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should really get around to naming these chapters at some point.

The next time, James finds him. 

It's been a couple weeks since their last encounter, enough time for Peter to cook up some web fluid in his morning science lab. He'd brought the first batch along with him to test this afternoon and while there are still a few major kinks to work out – he's thinking water-soluble probably isn't the best plan and don't even get him started on the way it seems to clump – overall, it's been a successful trial run. So Peter feels quite justified in sitting on a fire escape and basking in his victory.

“You busy, Spider-Man?” someone calls from down below and when the teen looks over the edge, he sees James standing there.

The man still looks kinda rough but he's replaced his cap and hoodie with a thicker jacket and a new ragged beanie. Slightly less likely to freeze to death and Peter takes the change as a good sign. Maybe he managed to help a little after all.

“James! You remembered my name,” the teen calls back, grinning widely underneath his mask. 

“Don't get too excited, kid,” James tells him. “I probably wouldn't have remembered, but I think I saw your... handiwork. A bunch of guys are... glued to a pole a few blocks over – that ring a bell for you? The stuff that they're tied with sure looks like... webs to me.”

“You saw that? Isn't it great?” Peter asks.

“It wasn't... bad. I'll give you that,” the man replies. “They seemed... stuck on there pretty good.”

“Yeah, the cops will probably have to cut them off. Unless it snows,” the teen admits. “But I'd feel guilty if they froze while waiting to be picked up by the boys in blue. I'm still tweaking the formula but I think this batch is pretty good for a first prototype.”

“I've definitely seen worse,” James tells him with a crooked grin. “Unless there was an... explosion that I missed somehow. Do you plan to... celebrate?”

“You know, I hadn't really thought about it. You want a sandwich?”

“Why do you keep asking that?” the man replies, sounding a bit exasperated. 

But Peter simply shrugs. “I like sandwiches. Sue me. If you're not hungry, just say no. But you'll be missing out.”

“Best sandwiches in Queens, huh?”

“Damn straight. So are you in?”

“Sure kid, why not?” James says eventually. “But I'm buying my own sandwich. I don't need your... charity.”

That's not exactly a deal-breaker since it'll save the teen at least five dollars. So he hops down to the sidewalk and leads the man toward Delmar's. 

Peter gets a few weird looks for the outfit but not as many as he used to. New Yorkers are eminently adaptable and the city is finally starting to get used to Spider-Man. If anything, it's the tourists who seem to find him stranger now, a few people reaching for their cameras until James glares at them.

“All right, here we are.” The teen stops in front of the bodega and rummages through his pockets for a five. “Everything is good so get whatever you want and grab me the same, if you don't mind. Just ask them to smush the bread down when they toast it. Sandwiches taste better flat.”

“Whatever you say, kid,” James replies, taking Peter's five. Then he pushes open the door to get on line, his shoulders set like he's going off to war as he disappears inside.

Peter contemplates the wisdom of sending a twitchy former soldier in to face the crowd alone before shrugging and deciding that Mr. Delmar can probably hold his own. Spider-Man will be close enough to hear the shouting if he's needed anyway.

While he waits for James, the teen hops up onto a nearby street light. Although most parts of being Spider-Man are _so freaking cool,_ Peter thinks the climbing might be his favorite part. No one ever looks up and people do the strangest stuff when they don't realize someone's watching. Strange and gross, the teen making a face when one scruffy looking dude shoves a hand down his pants to scratch his ass.

 _I didn't need to see that,_ Peter thinks, flipping around the street lamp so that he's hanging upsidedown. He tracks one shifty looking woman until she gets into a taxi and then checks his phone for messages before wondering what the heck is taking James so long.

There's usually not much of a line this time of day and the other guy had been so insistent about not accepting Peter's money; it hardly seems possible that he would have run off now. _Maybe he got... lost?_ the teen thinks, that idea even more ridiculous. He's trying to decide if he should risk going into the bodega in this outfit – Mr. Delmar might recognize his voice and the last thing he needs is someone telling Aunt May about his alter ego when she thinks he's studying.

“Hey, kid... _Spider-Man!_ ”

James must have walked out of Delmar's while Peter was busy fretting and he's waving two wrapped sandwiches up at the teen now.

“What took you so long? I was starting to get worried,” Peter gripes, dropping down to the sidewalk.

“You told me to... choose,” James replies quietly. “There were too many... options.”

“Oh man, I get that. I guess I forgot what it was like the first time. But you can't have made a bad choice. Everything from Delmar's is fantastic,” the teen tells him cheerfully. “Unless you got hot peppers. I can't stand hot peppers. I probably should've mentioned that.”

“No. No peppers.”

“Then it's all good. Now, I'd usually just eat up on another fire escape since it's pretty warm today. But we can find an empty bench if you prefer. Something more accessible.”

“That will not be... necessary. I can manage.”

Peter has his doubts but James seems serious. So the teen just shrugs and leads him down a side street till he finds a likely spot. Empty, quiet, and out of the wind – good things for outdoor winter eating if you're not a polar bear.

He hops up on the fire escape and then turns to offer James a hand. But the man just tosses the sandwiches up to Peter before jumping for the rail. He pulls himself up hand over hand until he can climb onto the fire escape and Peter stands there gaping until he shakes off his surprise. James did say he was a soldier, but _damn_ ; the teen wishes he could have done that just as easily before his spider bite.

The guy settles down beside him and picks up a sandwich, unwrapping the paper carefully before taking a small bite. James chews and swallows before glancing over at the teen and asking, “Are you gonna eat yours? I doubt I can... ID you just from seeing half your mouth, but I can turn and face the other... direction if you want.”

“Huh? Oh yeah, of course,” Peter mumbles, grabbing his own sandwich. The pair eats in silence for a few minutes, neither pausing for more than a breath or two until their food is mostly gone.

“So, what do you think?” the teen asks as he sits back in satisfaction.

“Not bad. Not bad at all,” James tells him. “But I think that I've had better.”

“You must be joking! Where?” Peter demands, a little miffed on his favorite sandwiches' behalf.

“There was a... deli on the corner when I was growing up,” the man says, staring off into the distance. “It was a... Jewish deli. Saul's, I think. Or Reuben's. I can't quite remember. But it had the best corn beef and... pastrami of any place in Brooklyn. Man, Steve loved that fucking deli. He used to drag me there any time he'd saved up his pennies and we'd both get a meal. I preferred to mix things up, maybe get sauerkraut or some hot soup in the winter, but Steve would get pastrami on rye bread every time. Some of those sandwiches weighed as much as he did, but he'd always finish them.”

Peter listens spellbound as James pours out a memory, his accent growing more New York with every word. The teen honestly isn't sure whether the man remembers that he's there, but he can't bring himself to interrupt.

“I'd usually take Steve there for his birthday and I kept expecting him to get sick of it someday. But he never did and the owner loved him even though he didn't quite fit in. Steve was Catholic, you know, Irish, but he used to say that he was jealous of my family. All Catholics got was Lent and guilt and we Jews had better food.”

James stops talking suddenly, his expression completely pole-axed when Peter looks at him.

“Are you okay?”

“I... I didn't know that I was Jewish,” the man says quietly. “I think... I think it was a secret. The museum... my dog tags didn't say.”

“Umm, no offense, but how could you not know that?”

“There are... problems with my memory,” James admits after a long pause. “I remember more now, most of it, I think. But sometimes the... details take me by surprise.”

“I'm sorry,” Peter says for lack of something better. “Is that from being a soldier? Were you injured?”

“You could say that,” he replies with a slightly bitter chuckle. The man stares off into the distance for a moment longer before pushing to his feet. “Thanks for the company and the sandwich... suggestion. But I should be going. I need to... I need to write this down.”

James jumps over the railing of the fire escape and lands lightly on the ground. “I'll see you later, Spider-Man.”

“Yeah, okay. Sure, I guess,” Peter replies a little awkwardly. Amnesiac ex-soldiers aren't exactly in his comfort zone and he doesn't want to say something wrong by accident. But if the man notices his discomfort, he doesn't mention it. He just waves at the teen and walks off purposefully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This note has nothing to do with this fic, but did any of you know that Sebastian Stan has a minor part in Logan Lucky? Because I did not and while I quite enjoyed the movie anyway, that was a nice surprise.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I won't have time to post this weekend so here's a short chapter now. By which I mean just as long as all the others, of course :)

Peter doesn't see James regularly. The teen will go four days without a sign of him and then run across the man by accident three times in a row. It should be impossible considering the size of New York City but somehow the two of them always seem to manage it. When Spider-Man is chasing down a criminal, James just nods a greeting, but they usually stop and chat a while before both moving on – Spider-Man to his patrolling and James to whatever the heck he does when Peter's not around.

The teen knows that it's not a normal friendship – he's not stupid – and he knows that James has secrets. But it's not as though he doesn't and this seems to work for them. Peter likes having someone he can talk to about being a superhero, about the criminals that he's caught and his plans for his equipment, and in return James usually tells him stories about the New York he used to know.

The man always wears the same brown jacket – paired with a scruffy beanie or a cap – and he's taken to carrying around a notebook in the pocket so that he doesn't have to leave to record his memories. Now their conversations simply pause for a bit while James writes down his revelations, everything from the name of his first girlfriend – steady dame, he calls her – to the color of his mother's favorite scarf. Those are the happy ones and Peter isn't dumb enough to ask about the memories that make the man go silent, gripping his pen like a weapon in his hand.

The teen has learned to recognize the signs now, the cut-off words and vacant staring that usually signals another bout of scribbling. Honestly, the way James writes, he must go through a lot of notebooks and Peter has seen at least two different ones so far.

Soon to be a third since his friend is on the last few pages when he looks up from his phone. The guy has been writing for at least five minutes, so intently focused that Peter is almost surprised that the paper hasn't burst right into flames. 

James always seems to write more when he's been talking about Steve and to be honest, he mentions Steve a lot. The memories are mostly happy but his voice is often wistful and Peter has to wonder why the guy hasn't searched his best friend out. If he just needs contact info, the teen can probably get that for him easily.

“Not that I'm complaining or anything,” Peter says when James finally shuts his notebook. “But don't you have somewhere else to be? Or other people you should see?”

“Not really,” the man answers with a shrug. “I'm... between jobs at the moment and you remind me of some friends I used to have. Dum Dum was like you, always... joking but a good man in a fight and your... stubbornness in being Spider-Man, that's Stevie through and through.”

“Right, so what about him?” the teen asks. “The way you talk about this Steve guy, I would've thought you'd hang with him. I know they took down all the payphones but there's ways to make a call.”

“That is not an option,” James answers flatly. He shoves his notebook into his jacket pocket and the expression on his face is either furious or devastated – Peter honestly can't tell.

“Oh my god, Steve is _dead_ isn't he?” the teen asks horrified. “That's why you can't see him. I'm such an idiot.”

“What? No. He isn't dead,” James tells him and Peter slumps down in relief. Although he clearly put his foot in it, his friend doesn't sound that angry now. The man just sounds depressed by this whole conversation and the teen should probably apologize for bringing up the topic. But it's too late not to say it and Peter can't deny he's curious. 

Thankfully, James continues without any further prompting. “It's all a little... complicated and you're not completely wrong. I thought Steve was dead for a long time and he thought I was for longer. I know the damn fool blamed himself.”

“But then you _have_ to tell him,” the teen exclaims. “Once he learns that you're okay, then he'll probably be stoked.”

“Unless that word means... devastated, you're pretty damn far off the mark. Our initial... reunion didn't turn out very well,” James says with a sigh, cutting Peter off when he tries to speak again. “And that's my fault so leave it. Things will be better for everyone if I just stay far away.”

Everything about that statement sounds stupid to the teen. Even when they fight, Peter can't imagine his life without Ned in it and James clearly misses his best friend a lot. But maybe making yourself miserable for no good reason is one of those things that people call maturity. Adults always seem to be doing things that make them mad.

"Okay, man, chill. I was just wondering," the teen says, holding up his hands. He's learned that arguing with James on some things is like talking to a wall. "If you change your mind at some point, let me know and I can try to track Steve down. Until then, I won't bother if you don't want me too.”

“Don't hold your breath, kid, but I do... appreciate the offer,” the man replies and at least Peter hasn't screwed things up completely by poking at old wounds.

“Still friends then? Awesome,” he says, clapping his hands together before climbing to his feet. “Anyway, I'll see you later. I've got a new batch of web fluid that I need to test for traveling."

“Try not to die,” James tells him, obviously remembering the teen's first attempt at webslinging, the one that Peter really doesn't want to think about. If his friend hadn't been there to grab him when his line snapped, the teen probably would have hit that bus face first.

But Peter has reworked the whole system now and he's sure that he'll be fine. “You really shouldn't worry. I have everything planned out.”

“Yeah, sure,” the man says skeptically. “If you think you're gonna crash, aim for something soft and protect your head as best you can.”

“Sorry, I can't hear you. I'm too busy being awesome,” Peter replies. The teen gives James a cheeky salute before shooting off his webbing and despite his friend's dire predictions, this new batch of web fluid works even better than he'd hoped once he gets the hang of it.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SadlyI couldn't get the font to work the way I wanted on ao3.  
> Seriously, if anyone knows the CSS to make symbol font work properly, please drop me a line. I wanted legible gibberish, not words that you could read.
> 
> Edit: So apparently the font might be working correctly for some of you. If you see a bunch of symbols that look vaguely like Greek and/or actual Greek, congratulations. You understand as much as Peter. Unless you read Greek, in which case I'm jealous.
> 
> If, like me, you see blue text in English with circles around it, then you understand as much as Bucky. Consider it a bonus.

Three days later, Spider-Man is trying to explain to this old lady that he's returning her purse not coming back to steal some more. The conversation would be easier if she spoke of a lick of English. Currently it's going something like, "Hey- stop- _ow_ \- damn it, _lady_ ," as she tries to whack him with her cane and yells in vaguely European sounding gibberish.

Peter is about ready to leave the purse and run when someone reaches over his right shoulder and catches the woman's cane on her next swing.

“ _Please be calm. My friend wanted only to help,_ ” James says in the same language. At least, the teen assumes that he's speaking the same language because the lady finally calms down. Suddenly she's just a sweet old granny as she laughs and pats Peter on the arm. 

“ _Why is he wearing that stupid outfit?_ ” the woman says and the teen thinks that was a question. “ _I thought he was a hooligan._ ”

“ _I don't blame you. But he's a superhero. Have you heard of Spider-Man?_ ”

The teen stand there gaping as James and the old woman chat a little longer, his friend ducking his head almost shyly when the lady pinches both his cheeks. Peter holds out the purse when the man nudges him and he's half expecting to get thumped again. But granny just hooks the bag over her elbow and gives the pair a nod.

“ _Goodbye. And thank you for the help._ ”

“ _You are very welcome. Farewell,_ ” James replies before the old lady totters off and all the teen can think is, _what the heck was that?_

"Since when do you speak Russian?" is what comes out of his mouth.

"That was actually Romanian," the man tells him with a grin. "And I speak a lot of... languages. They came in handy as a soldier and I've always had an... ear."

"That is so cool. I wish I spoke another language fluently," Peter murmurs, staring up at James with something close to awe. "Actually, about that, can you speak Spanish too?"

“I'm not sure," his friend says with a shrug. "Say something in Spanish."

"Okay, um... _Yo necesito practicar español por que hay un... una... una testa... uno testo mañana_."

"Well, your... accent is terrible and I think you meant _un examen_ , but I guess I do speak Spanish," James tells him with another crooked grin. He's been smiling more the longer that they've known each other and he seems quite amused right now.

"Great. _Sooo_ can you help me study?" Peter asks. "I wasn't actually joking about the test."

"You know I barely finished school, kid?"

"Yeah, but you speak Spanish," the teen replies.

James sighs and gripes and rolls his eyes but still agrees to help him and they spend the next few hours drilling Spanish vocab back and forth. They only pause when Peter has to go chase down a shoplifter and stops to scold a woman whose dog is not on leash.

Not the most nefarious of criminals but Spider-Man is working up to bigger things. Just last weekend the teen stopped a car from crashing - which was awesome, by the way – and studying is still important too. Aunt May will be furious if Peter flunks another test and getting grounded would put the kibosh on his superheroing. To be honest, his grades have slipped a little since he started this whole gig and as cool as it is to have superpowers, Peter still needs to graduate.

Thankfully, James is a good teacher: straightforward in his explanations and patient when the teen conjugates his reflexive verbs wrong yet again.

“Aargh, I'm never gonna get this," he exclaims, throwing his hands up in the air.

"Yes, you are," the man says calmly. "You just need more practice. Run through the set again."

"Why aren't you more frustrated?" Peter asks in irritation. "Share my misery."

"I've seen plenty worse, kid," James replies. “Hell, I spent a good decade trying to teach Steve how to talk to women and that was a lost cause. If I didn't give up on him after a score of... abject failures, I think I can spare one afternoon. At least I'm not back at war again."

That little speech does a bang up job of making the teen feel ungrateful so he lets out a sigh. "All right. Fine. Remind me when I'm supposed to use _me_ and _se_ again."

By the time Peter has to leave, he actually feels half ready and the test itself goes smoothly, none of the utter panic that he felt the time before. Indeed, the teen gets a solid B+ and he's happy for it, though an odd emotion takes him as he's staring at his grade. He finds himself wishing that his friendship with James wasn't quite so isolated, that he could show the man his test and celebrate as Peter Parker instead of Spider-Man.

The teen knows it's stupid and he shouldn't - he won't, he's not that crazy. But Peter wants to and he isn't sure what he should do with that. So he decides that he'll do nothing, except maybe drag James to another deli to say thank you when he next runs into him. The teen is still trying to find one that can match up to the guy's old memories.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plot happens. Just FYI.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought about splitting this chapter in 2 since it's much longer than the rest but decided that would be mean. Plus, more importantly, there was no good place to draw the line ;-p. 
> 
> Also, this fic now has more subscriptions than my account as a whole, which is either sad or flattering. Me and my dear dead fandoms are enjoying the sudden popularity :)

Peter never gets the chance to find that deli. Spider-Man is heading home one afternoon when he hears what sounds like fighting from an underground garage. He follows the noise down to the second level, hoping that he'll be able to stop a robbery or something cool like that. But what the teen sees when he peers into the shadows makes him stop and stare in shock.

Because James is fighting with at least a dozen other men and the look on his face is like nothing that Peter's ever seen. His friend looks truly scary now, teeth bared and murder in his eyes, and the teen can see the soldier where he never could before.

That man is dangerous - truly dangerous - and Peter is abruptly overwhelmed by all the truths he doesn't know. _What if James really is a bad guy? What if he's a criminal and he heads off to kill people whenever I go home?_ But at the same time, he's outnumbered and it's the other men with weapons: knives and chains and things that Peter doesn't even recognize.

The teen can't decide if he should help or not so he stands frozen, watching as James slices through his enemies. Everyone he touches crumples in an instant and once they're down, they don't get up again.

"Goddamn it! Take him out!" one guy shouts and he must be the leader, hanging back even as his minions falter and their target shows no signs of slowing down. "I want his fucking head!"

The man - _assassin?_ \- pulls something from his coat and suddenly an arc of lightning is roaring through the air. Peter gasps in horror - _shit, that's gonna kill him_ \- but James is already dodging. He dives to the concrete seconds before the bolt of energy passes through the place where he'd been standing, close enough that the back of his jacket starts to smoke. The lightning hits one of his attackers and the man just starts to scream. The sound goes on and on as his skin begins to sizzle, a high keening that makes Peter stagger and put his hands across his ears.

However, James' enemies don't stop just because one of their own is roasting where he stands. Instead, they press their attack, one of them trying to tackle James even as the man with the lightning gun pulls the trigger one more time. The teen ducks reflexively but the gun just sputters, jamming in a shower of sparks and purple smoke.

"Damn Chitauri tech," the stranger curses, throwing down the weapon. Or maybe he says, "Samuel, hit the deck!" Peter can't quite tell over the ringing in his ears.

It hardly seems important as the guy pulls out a pistol from his jacket and fires four shots at James' chest. There's no time for him to dodge even if one of his attackers weren't wrapped around his ankles and the teen is sure that he's about to see a good friend murdered. James is going to die and Spider-Man should have stepped in after all. But then the man throws up his left arm and the bullets bounce right off. 

It sounds insane and Peter can't be certain what just happened even when he's looking at the holes in James' jacket that the bullets left behind. Because there are holes, smoking ruined holes that show metal underneath and the man's entire sleeve comes off when he turns to block another dagger strike.

_I guess I know why he never took the gloves off,_ the teen thinks a bit hysterically as he stares at the gleaming piece of metal where his friend's left arm should be. _The tech in that must be amazing_ wars with _fuck, that must've hurt,_ and by the time Peter gets his wits back, the fight is almost done. James lays out the last man with his own pistol, the weapon ripped out of his fingers and then slammed against his head.

Suddenly there's silence. Nothing but the faint sound of traffic as James stands triumphant amidst a crowd of broken men. Peter thinks that most of them are breathing - not counting that poor bastard who got roasted - but his friend barely seems to have worked up a good sweat. He took out a dozen men in fifteen minutes and the teen doesn't know how to reconcile this total badass - _one with a freaking metal arm_ \- with the man who couldn't pick a sandwich and writes down his memories.

Peter must make a sound or something because James suddenly whirls around and the teen flinches back from the murder in his eyes.

_Oh shit, I'm gonna die_ , he thinks, panic sending him straight up in the air. Peter lands on the ceiling of the garage and sticks there, every muscle tensed for flight. But the moment that James sees him, his whole expression shifts.

"Fuck," the man says quietly. His shoulders slump and he falls out of his ready stance to run his right hand through his hair. If not for the metal arm and the blood splashed on his clothing, he could just be James again. 

"I suppose you saw that, didn't you?"

The dejection in the words gives Peter the courage to drop back to the ground. He doesn't walk any closer, still prepared for a quick exit, but he doesn't think his friend is going to lash out.

"What the hell is going on here?” the teen asks, waving at the men. “Who are they? Who are _you_ for that matter? Have you had that arm this whole dang time?"

"You really don’t... recognize me?" James replies, sounding honestly surprised. “You may not know my face, but the arm should be a dead giveaway. Seriously, kid, if you're gonna be a superhero, you should probably watch the news."

"Yeah well, whatever," Peter grumbles. "Will you please just tell me what is happening? Why were these people after you?"

"I told you I was a soldier. Most of it wasn't... voluntary and the men I used to work for want me back. Or dead; they can't quite seem to make up their damn minds," James says quietly. "But these are just the first. Now that one group has found me, others will come running. I have to leave New York tonight."

In that moment, Peter weighs what he's seen against the questions and he decides to trust the man he knows. James could well be lying; he could be some kind of criminal on the run. But the teen just doesn't think so. Peter has seen James offer too much kindness to believe the worst of him. Indeed, the thought of stopping the man barely flashes through his mind before he's dismissing the idea. Even if Peter wanted to, he isn't sure he can.

"So, should I call the cops or something?" the teen asks instead. "I can stay and watch these guys until someone takes them in. Or you could stay and we could fight them off together. You've seen what my webs can do."

"No!"

The denial is instant, short and sharp and panicked. 

"You see guys like this and you run, kid. Promise me," James orders fiercely. "If Hydra got a hold of you, their men would have a field day, carving out your mind and shoving hooks in deep. I know you want to help but once they're finished, you wouldn't be a hero; you'd just be a weapon to do their dirty work."

"Is that what happened to you?"

The man's silence is answer enough, the look in his eyes making Peter shiver with unease.

"Just promise that you'll run," James says eventually. "Anyone asks about me or Hydra or you see the symbol that's on those pins right there and you run the other way. Get the hell out of dodge as fast as you can and don't even think of fighting because Hydra is far out of your league."

“All right, I promise," Peter tells him, honestly not sure if he wants to mess with people who come armed with lightning guns. At least not until he has a bit more practice anyway. "But what about these guys? You can't just leave them here."

"I… Fuck," the man sighs, looking at the bodies strewn around his feet. "Okay kid, I'll make it work."

James stares a moment longer, considering his options. Then he snaps into action, removing one man's jacket to replace his own ripped clothing before getting down to work. He drags his attackers into one big pile, stripping them of anything that could be used as a weapon or to call for help. 

Peter watches in awe as his friend crushes guns and knives to pieces with his left hand and the teen's fingers are inching for a chance to tinker with that machinery. James' arm must be a thousand times more intricate than anything that he's pulled out of dumpsters, cooler even than his web shooters and he's still way proud of those.

When James has finished disarming his attackers, he starts to tie them up, using a combination of their own clothing, his ruined jacket, and the chains with which they tried to take him down.

"How long does your webbing last these days?" James asks Peter once the other men are tied so tightly that they can barely breathe.

"Um, maybe like four hours. But I've got an older batch that's more like ten, fifteen if they don't do much wiggling," the teen stammers, feeling a little awkward about the way that he's been ogling that arm.

"Do you mind?"

"Huh? Oh, no, of course not," Peter replies. "You know I want to help."

He swaps out his canisters and then starts shooting webbing everywhere. By the time he's finished, James's attackers are trapped in an enormous white cocoon. These guys won't be going _anywhere_.

"So, do I call the cops now?"

That's his standard MO once Spider-Man has caught a criminal and he could use some familiarity right now. But James just shakes his head. He pulls a phone out of his pocket and enters in a number straight from memory.

"Tell him what you saw," his friend orders as he hits the speaker button and then holds out the phone. It rings twice before it's answered and a man's voice says, "Hello?"

He sounds strangely familiar and Peter ends up tongue-tied as he tries to place the tone.

"Is someone there? Who is this? How did you get my number?"

The questions pause for a long moment and then the same man whispers, "Bucky, is that you? Are you all right?"

The worry in his voice finally nudges Peter into speaking or maybe it's the frown that James is giving him. 

"Sorry, mister. I don't know a Bucky. I'm calling 'cuz I saw this man... he was fighting all these guys in a garage. He had a metal arm and when they shot him, the bullets bounced right off like it was nothing. It was awesome. And there was this crazy lightning that lit one man on fire-"

"Was he injured?" the man on the phone interrupts, sounding almost panicked. "Did he get captured?"

"No, he's fine. At least I think so, the metal arm dude won," Peter continues, frowning in confusion when James mouths some words at him. "He's dawn... I mean, gone... long gone actually. But the guys that he was fighting, they're still here. He tied them up and left them and I don't know what to do."

"Okay. It's okay, kid," the man replies and the teen can't help believing him. "Tell me where you are and I'll take care of it."

"Queens, I'm in Queens."

"New York?" is the answer and the voice on the phone sounds like he's just been punched.

"Well yeah, New York. You know another Queens?" Peter asks before giving him the cross streets and the name of the garage.

"Thanks, kid. I'm a few days out, but I'll contact the local authorities and Iron Man will make sure that those men are put away."

"Iron Man?" he squeaks. "Like Tony Stark? Are you serious right now?"

Peter probably would have gone into full on fan-boy mode if James hadn't snapped the phone shut to terminate the call. For a moment he just looks at the device, his expression full of longing before his face smooths into blankness and he crushes the phone inside his fist.

"Time to go, kid. For both of us," the man says and his words have the ring of finality.

"Wait, is this forever?" Peter asks him. "Are you ever coming back?"

"Maybe someday, but I doubt it. I should never have stayed in Brooklyn for this long," his friend answers. "And now I've got to run again. As far and as fast as possible; you won't be safe otherwise."

He glares at the cocoon of webbing that's holding his attackers and the teen is struck by a sudden awful thought.

"Hey, James? What would you have done with them if I weren't here?"

At first Peter thinks that he isn't gonna answer but then he says quietly, "I would have killed them. A single bullet each. Men like that destroy every life they touch and I told you, I'm no hero. You need better friends then me."

"I don't think that's possible. You may not be a hero but that doesn't make you evil," Peter tells him and he means every word. If James were evil, he wouldn't have cared so much about the teen's opinion. He would have shot them anyway. "You'll always be a decent guy to me."

"Goodbye, Spider-Man," is the reply. "Try to stay out of trouble if you can."

"Same to you," Peter says but James has already disappeared and when the teen walks by the building the next morning, there's nothing left to show what happened there.

He does finally Google James - or actually, soldier-with-a-metal-arm - and after the first dozen articles, he understands why the man was so surprised that Peter hadn't heard of him. The teen has heard of Bucky Barnes – he didn't actually sleep through history; he just didn't remember what the poor guy looked like – but somehow Peter missed the whole Winter Soldier debacle in Washington DC. 

Of course, in his defense, he'd been about eleven at the time and Peter does his research now. The teen has a minor freak out when he realizes that James' Steve had been Steve Rogers and Captain America had really talked to him. A need to vent his feelings anonymously sends him to the message boards, where he proceeds to get in fights with people who say that Bucky Barnes shouldn't be considered a war hero anymore.

Don't these assholes read? The evidence clearly points to brainwashing and no one will ever convince the teen that James was a bad guy. Honestly, the man wouldn't have been so worried about Peter otherwise.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to our regularly scheduled updates...

When Tony Stark shows up in the teen's apartment roughly five months later, James is pretty much the last thing on Peter's mind. He's too busy flipping out over the fact that Iron Man is _in his apartment_ , eating walnut date loaf, and talking with Aunt May.

Tony Stark knows who is, he knows about Spider-Man, and when Peter explains that he wants to help the little guy, Iron Man nods along like he completely understands.

“You've done some good work, kid, keeping the streets clean,” Stark tells him. “I saw your webs up close and personal when you took down those mercenaries and with my backing, you could do amazing things.”

“So you did put those guys in prison?” Peter asks. “Did they say anything?”

“Well, guys like that don't let themselves stay captured very long. Old school, you know, capsules of cyanide and then the frothing. It's a mess,” the man admits. “But they won't be hurting anyone and that's not why I'm really here. Sure it put you on my radar, but now I need your actual help.”

“Seriously? Of course!” the teen says. If the Avengers need him, he's totally on board. “Except... I do have homework.”

“Kid, this is bigger than your homework,” Tony Stark replies and Peter's pretty sure he rolls his eyes. “But if it means that much to you, bring your textbooks on the plane. I hope your passport's up-to-date.”

“My what?”

Suddenly the teen finds himself flying to Berlin - _Berlin!_ \- in this awesome private jet and he doesn't think he's ever been so stoked in his whole life. Sure the bit about Captain America going crazy kinda sucks but Stark said he wasn't psycho just misguided and Peter wants to help.

The teen grew up with the Avengers, they're his heroes, and considering the way that James used to talk about his best friend, he's sure that they'll be able to resolve this peacefully. Besides, the new suit that Tony built him is the coolest thing ever and the whole trip is worth it just for that.

Peter is a little nervous when he gets to the airport where there's gonna be some kind of showdown but that's mostly because _Avengers!_ and he can't resist the urge to take a quick video. The teen almost misses his cue but then he's leaping into action, a well-placed web lifting Captain America's shield right from his hands.

 _I hope my camera caught that entrance_ , he thinks, opening his mouth to make a snappy comment. But then Peter sees a familiar face standing by Steve Rogers and what comes out is, " _James_? What are you doing _here_?"

Everyone turns to gape at him: Iron Man, Hawkeye, the Black Widow, and a bunch of other people that he doesn't recognize.

"Damn it, kid. I told you that you should watch the news more regularly," James says, recovering from his surprise a fraction sooner than the rest.

"Well sorry, I've been busy," the teen retorts. "Just give me the Cliff Notes version will you? Stark said something about Captain America going crazy but he didn't mention you."

"Of course he didn't," Steve Rogers mutters before James elbows him.

"I'm the reason that you're here, kid," the man says, sounding tired. "Someone framed me for a bombing and these guys want to lock me up and throw away the key."

"But what about a trial?"

"He does not deserve a trial," the guy in the black cat suit growls. Peter is pretty sure that he's the king of somewhere, but he hadn't been paying as much attention to Happy's explanation of his allies as he probably should've been. "The Winter Soldier killed my father."

"No, I didn't," James replies, though the teen doesn't think that he's expecting the words to be believed. "I was in Romania."

"Then why did you run?"

"No offense, man, but you're kinda scary," Peter interjects before his friend can reply. "If you came after me, I'd probably run myself."

"And that's exactly what you should be doing," James says a little sharply. "Sit this one out, Spider-Man. You don't know what's going on."

"Why are you always telling me to be careful?" the teen asks in irritation. “I may not know exactly who the bad guy is here, but I still know right from wrong. You deserve a trial; even the Nazis got a trial and they killed millions."

"…Please don't compare me to a Nazi, kid."

"Oh, right. Sorry, I forgot. How about a gangster? You can't be worse than Al Capone," Peter says. "Seriously, dude, I'm on your side. Why won't you let me help?"

"Because it isn't safe!" James bursts out before rounding on Iron Man. "And you! What the fuck is wrong with you? He's just a kid; he shouldn't even be here. You want to come after me, fine, but don't be... conscripting children to do your dirty work."

"Hey! I'm not a child," the teen protests, but no one is listening.

“ _You're_ judging _me_?" Stark growls. “You're an assassin, a murderer. How many people have you killed?"

"How many have _you_ , asshole?" the other man growls back. "I may be a murderer but I didn't do it willingly. I spent seventy years being tortured and brainwashed to obedience; I know that doesn't change things but what's your damn excuse?"

Instead of answering, Iron Man fires off his thrusters and suddenly the fight is on. Captain America rips his shield from Peter's hands with some sort of magnet as everyone else joins in the fray. Spider-Man tries to stop them, using his webbing to disable where he can. But the Avengers have experience that he simply cannot match and he spends the first part of the battle dodging frantically.

The teen is in way over his head and so maybe James was right. Maybe he should be running while he can. But Peter doesn't want to let down anyone - not James nor Tony neither - and he's honestly afraid that his childhood heroes are gonna kill each other now.

So he keeps on fighting, trying not to pick a side. The teen uses his webbing to trip the Black Widow when she gets the upper hand on Hawkeye and yanks Panther Man from danger when he's about to catch a truck right to the face.

 _Oh my god, this is amazing_ , part of Peter's brain is screaming as he watches James and Captain America toss his shield back and forth. The rest of his brain is just trying to survive this and when one of James' allies suddenly grows into a giant, the teen doesn't have time to think about much of anything at all.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has nothing to do with the fic and will probably be meaningless to most of you. But, "Roxy deserved better." If you agree, feel free to commiserate.


	8. Chapter 8

When the dust finally settles, both Steve and James have disappeared and War Machine is injured, bad enough that no one will tell Peter what's happening. He gets sent to his hotel room and told to stay there like a child, Stark clearly still quite pissed off about him sort of changing sides.

"I'll deal with you later, Spider-Man," he snarls before stalking from the room and leaving Peter there to worry on his own.

The teen paces back and forth, afraid to remove his suit in case someone comes to send him off to jail. This whole experience has left a bad taste in his mouth. Superheroes are supposed to help people; they're supposed to fight with villains, not each other and their friends. Indeed, Stark had been _his_ hero and now he isn't sure.

When someone knocks on Peter’s door, the teen rushes to answer it. He's hoping for news of War Machine or his ticket home or _something_. But while he's expecting Happy, instead the teen finds Panther Man standing in the hall.

Unlike Spider-Man, he isn't actually wearing his costume anymore but Peter still can't remember his name so Panther Man it is.

"Um, hello, can I help you?" the teen says, honestly not sure what this guy could want.

"I hope so. I would like to speak with you about James Buchanan Barnes."

"Okay, I- I guess that should be fine. You- You wanna come in?" Peter stammers. "I don't- I mean, I don't know him all that well."

"And yet you still believed him when he said that he was framed," the man replies as he sits down on the couch. "I wish you to tell me why."

"Well, because he wouldn't... He wouldn't set a bomb off so it has to be a lie," the teen says, flushing a bit when his visitor raises one skeptical eyebrow. "Look, have you even read the stuff about the Winter Soldier? He was clearly brainwashed and I wouldn't wish the kind of torture that he went through on my worst enemy."

"That doesn't make him innocent."

"No, but see, it doesn't make him guilty either. Would you be so quick to judge if not for his history? Once an assassin, always an assassin; isn't that what you've been thinking?" Peter asks, warming to his topic. "He's the perfect man to frame because no one even cares if he might be innocent. And why is everyone so determined that he shouldn't have a trial? If he's guilty, then he's guilty and a trial shouldn't hurt that. I think the people calling the shots are more afraid of the secrets he might spill."

"And what might those secrets be?" Panther Man replies.

"I have no idea," the teen tells him honestly. "It's not like we ever talked about that kind of thing. I didn't even know who he was when we first met."

"I admit that your theory has some merit," the man says grudgingly. "But you still haven't told me why you believe in Barnes' innocence. Deserving of trial or not, what makes you so certain that he's left his past behind?"

"Because he helped me with my Spanish."

"What?"

"James helped me study Spanish and talked down this old lady who tried to hit me with her cane," Peter says, trying to get the man to understand. "He was in New York then and he used to tell me all these stories about Captain America when the two of them were young. Some of them were things that he'd forgotten - that Hydra had burned out of him - so he always had a notebook to write down his memories."

"He didn't try to use you for your abilities?"

"Use me to do what?" the teen asks, honestly offended on his friend's behalf. "James wouldn't even let me buy him sandwiches. Seriously, the guy is _nice_. He gave me advice on how to capture criminals better; he wasn't planning sabotage."

"So you think he isn't dangerous?"

"I never said that," Peter retorts, starting to get annoyed by Panther Man's refusal to listen properly. "And I knew he'd been a soldier, James told me that right off. He told me that he used to do bad things. But the only time I ever saw him hurt another person, they'd tried to kill him first. There was a whole group of mercenaries with this whacked out lightning gun. Their leader lit one guy on fire and the way that poor man screamed...."

The teen shivers remembering that sound.

"James could have killed them but he didn't because I asked him not to. Instead, he tied them up and had me call the Avengers to make sure they were brought in. Does that sound like an assassin?" Peter asks, not expecting a real answer and indeed, his visitor just keeps on watching him. "James left New York that evening. He said more attackers would be coming and he was afraid that they would hurt me if he chose to stick around. So tell me, why would a guy like that suddenly decide to set off some massive bomb? The man I knew was interested in hiding, not in killing people, and if he _had_ gone psycho, you honestly think that he would have gotten caught? Even the dumbest robber knows how to wear a mask. It just isn't logical."

Panther Man doesn't reply. He just sits there like a statue, long enough that the teen is starting to get worried before he stands up suddenly.

"Thank you for your insight. You have given me much to think about," the man says before starting toward the door.

"Wait! You aren't gonna hurt him, are you?"

"That remains to be seen."

"And the others?” Peter asks. “I know they're not bad people. Sure they helped a fugitive but that's just because they just wanted to see real justice done."

"Should I forgive their crimes that easily?” Panther Man replies. “Whatever their motivations, they broke the law and you are lucky that you are not sharing in their fate. Your friend James is a criminal whether he set that bomb or not. What about the blood that stains his hands?"

"What about it?" the teen answers. "Maybe I'm missing the point here, but it's not his fault that he was brainwashed. Blaming James for the Winter Soldier's actions is like blaming kidnapped children when they get Stockholm syndrome. Sure it might make you feel better, but the only people who deserve to be imprisoned are the evil bastards who turned the poor guy into a weapon. James doesn't need a jail cell, he needs some therapy."

"I wish I shared your certainty."

Panther Man gives the teen a regal nod and then strides out of the room. As soon as the door clicks shut behind him, Peter stumbles to the bed and flops down on the mattress, his heart beating wildly. He feels like he just faced down a tiger and he's so ready to go home. 

Peter wants to go back to New York where things aren't so complicated. Where all he has to deal with is school and bullies and Aunt May's expectations, where a criminal is a criminal and Spider-Man can actually do some good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like to think that Peter is the reason T'Challa agreed to take Bucky in. And just a short epilogue left now.


	9. Chapter 9

Three weeks later, Peter gets a postcard. There's no stamp, return address, or signature - it must have been hand-delivered - but the teen still knows exactly who it's from.

 _Practice your Spanish, kid, and don't let bullies get you down,_ the postcard reads in blocky lettering, _Thank you for your help,_ scrawled underneath this in a much smoother hand. The rest of the card is covered by an intricate drawing of a deli and Peter can't help grinning when he sees that it's named Saul's.

Whatever happened after the teen was sent back to New York to "think about his actions," both James and Captain America managed to survive. They're alive and this postcard is a promise that they're coming back to visit. Maybe not tomorrow. Maybe not this year. But Peter knows that someday, he'll see his friend again. Someday the three of them will sit out on a fire escape, trading stories about their boroughs and eating sandwiches.

 

_End_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, this really is the end. Thanks for reading.


End file.
